


love him (if he wounds you, if he tears your heart to pieces)

by sailorharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, First Time, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:39:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorharry/pseuds/sailorharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall has a secret – he’s not exactly normal. He loves the ocean a bit too much, loves the taste of salt in the air and the cold wind whipping at his face. Zayn loves Niall – more than he should, more than he has ever loved anybody – and he loves Niall’s secret just as much, even if it threatens to tear their band apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. where the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold

**Author's Note:**

> titles are from the novel 'great expectations'. this is unbeta'd, sorry!

The wind is biting cold. The sea, a freezing fire. It’s a bit horrible, a bit miserable and Zayn snuffles dejectedly as he watches the sun disappear behind murky clouds. He’s cold and hungry and so, so tired and he knows he’s not the only one going by the way Harry droops in his seat. They’ve only adrenaline to fuel them, only the tight curl of excitement in the pit of their stomachs, but it’s more than enough because god, this is it, isn’t it? This is their first music video and they’ve come so far and it feels like a floating dream. 

“What a day to be at the beach.” Louis says sarcastically when silence hovers for too long, kicks up sand and laughs bright and loud when it blows straight in Harry’s face. Zayn can’t help but chuckle to himself as Harry cries out and flails in his chair, falling backwards with a thump. 

“Hey!” Harry says when they all begin to laugh at him, dusting off the sand on his face. “You got that in my mouth!” He splutters for effect, sticking his tongue out as Liam begins to pick sand out of his hair, giggling under his breath.

“Serves you right, sleeping on the job.” Louis spits back, eyebrows raised. It’s a nice little break from all the lights and cameras, the way Louis seems to just mould every situation into something fun – even something as mundane as waiting for the wind to die down – and Zayn’s so, so grateful to have them around. 

A silence settles around them again – peaceful, comfortable. It’s a nice sort of silence, a fleeting moment, easily broken when a shock of blond hair comes running through, eyes set on a blue horizon. “What a day to be at the beach!” Niall cries out, pulling off his shirt with ease and splashing into the chill of water.

“Niall, what are you doing? It’s freezing, you’ll catch a cold!” Liam immediately calls out when the shock disappears, grabbing a towel off a chair.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Niall laughs brightly, rolls his eyes when Liam’s eyes crease with worry. “Come in!” He says and Zayn can’t help but smile because only Niall would find sun when the clouds have consumed the sky. 

“Niall!” Liam calls out again as Louis and Harry laugh in the background, and it seems to work for a moment as Niall comes running out of the sea towards them. “Put your shirt back on!” Liam scolds lightly but Niall runs past him, grabs onto Zayn tightly and pulls him towards the arms of the ocean.

“Wait!” Zayn says because he sees where this is going and no, he does not like this one bit and – 

Splash and a bitter cold envelops his body, waves coming up to catch him. Zayn coughs and splutters as Niall drags him into the ocean with clothes and all – far enough that the water dances around their shoulders, close enough for them to stand in because, oh that’s right, he remembers that Zayn can’t swim, doesn’t he?

Zayn feels a bubble of anger boil in his chest. He wants to say something, tell Niall he’s crazy and god, what is he thinking, what is he doing? But then Niall laughs and Zayn looks at him and he’s never seen the sun shine as bright as Niall. “We’re gonna get in trouble, you know.” Zayn mumbles instead as he feels his anger dissipate away, icy water dripping from his hair and along his jaw. Fear still grips him but he relaxes when he looks at Niall, pretends he’s not out in open water. Just a pool, just a pool, he tells himself. Just a very large pool. 

“You’re only in trouble if you get caught.” Niall says with a small shake of his head, a small smirk, as he pushes Zayn’s hair out of his face with a gentle, warm touch. His hands are so soft when they slip into his own, pulling him across the water and Zayn can’t help but follow with a smile as his fear ebbs away ever so slightly. 

Niall looks so at home in the sea, as he helps Zayn through the waves. He glides through the water with a certain grace Zayn has never seen him wear, flows with the waves with fine, calculated movements. He’s so peaceful and Zayn can only admire the way the light reflects off his impossibly pale skin, lost in the blue of Niall’s eyes and the sun in his hair. 

A shout and a cry and Zayn suddenly finds himself drawn away from the small of Niall’s back and the curve of his shoulders and towards the orange of the shore. “We’re in trouble.” Zayn groans when he catches sight of angry, fuming stylists and cameramen and three laughing figures hunched over with giant shit-eating grins. 

“You mean, you’re in trouble.” Niall corrects him as he lets go of his hand and Zayn finds himself missing the warmth. Small hands come up suddenly and push at his chest until he’s stumbling backwards and all he can see is murky water and Niall running out of the sea with large, hurried leaps. “Last one out sucks shit!” Niall calls back to him with a smirk and Zayn laughs as he pushes himself up, kicking up water as he runs after him. 

They stay a bit longer, there on the shore with the sand and the stars, even after filming is done for the day and they’ve all received a long lecture on staying dry and not going out doing whatever the hell they want. Partly as their own celebration of a beginning, mostly because Niall refuses to get out of the ocean until his skin is a wrinkled mess and Liam has forsaken his shirt to pull Niall out of the freezing cold himself. 

 

 

Their debut album is a hit, to their surprise, and suddenly, fame comes to greet them with a roaring thunder. It’s so, so intense – the lights, the cameras, the fans, the screams – but it’s amazing and thrilling and Zayn has never felt so alive in his life. It’s non-stop interviews and photo shoots, sleepless nights and travels and when they finally do get their little break, they can’t help but feel a little relieved. 

“Let’s go to the beach!” Niall suggests when they’re all gathered in Harry’s home in Cheshire. Collective groans ring out and Niall laughs when Harry throws a blanket over his head and huddles into its warmth. 

“We _always_ go to the beach. It’s not even beach weather!” Louis says, throwing his hands in the air. Niall only smiles at that, pulls him by the arm and tugs on his shirt. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Any weather is beach weather.” He says, dragging Louis off his chair, even when he slumps over and pretends to be asleep. 

“ _You_ go to the beach. _I’m_ gonna stay home and sleep.” Harry huffs, poking his head out from his pile of blankets with a grimace.

Niall doesn’t think twice at that suggestion – Zayn wonders if he ever does – and drops Louis arms with a plop. “Alright!” He happily agrees, making his way to the door. 

“I’ll come.” Zayn says with a small smile because Niall can’t go alone – they’ll eat him up out there – and because lately, he’s beginning to feel a little lonely without him by his side, strangely. Niall smiles at him, takes him by the hand, and suddenly Zayn feels his chest tightening up in a not all unwanted sensation.

Liam stops them before they can make it to the door though, worry in his face and concern on his lips. “You’re seriously not going to go, are you? It’s freezing!” He says, brows knitted as he runs questioning eyes over Niall’s knobby knees and flushed cheeks. 

Niall rolls his eyes, shakes his head when Liam’s mouth twists into a pout. “You’re only making those wrinkles on your face permanent with all your worrying.” He tells him, poking the other on the forehead and laughing when Liam looks mortified. “C’mon, let’s go!” Niall cheers, before dragging Zayn out with warm hands and warmer smiles. 

A gush of wind comes to greet them when they make it outside. It’s a freezing day – far too chilly to be out, let alone in icy waters – but, Zayn thinks, as Niall throws an arm around him and buries his head into the crook of his neck, he doesn’t at all feel the least bit cold. 

 

 

They don’t end up going to the beach – Zayn’s had enough of open waters. He takes Niall to the pool instead, just the two of them because _of course, we’ll make an exception for you._ Niall jumps into the water without hesitation, lands with a splash and snickers when Zayn gets hit in the crossfire. He looks a bit beautiful then, Zayn thinks, floating in the waters as if he belongs there with a smile on his face and the sky in his eyes.

“Hm.” Niall hums, lying back easily against the blue of the pool. “Not as good as the ocean, but it’ll do. The water feels a bit funny.” He scowls, face crinkling up as he spits out a stream of water. Zayn only smiles at him, watches him from the edge of the pool with his trousers rolled up to the knee. 

“Come in!” Niall says when Zayn makes no move to join him, grabs at his hands and tries to pull him in. 

“I don’t –“ Zayn begins, but Niall thankfully stops him before he can finish. 

“I know, I know.” He whispers, looking up at Zayn with those big, impossible eyes. “It’s okay, I can teach you.” Niall says and Zayn trusts him so much in that moment, wants to just jump in and be there with him. Just with him. 

“Alright.” Zayn agrees, because sometimes Niall can be a bit contagious. He pulls off his shirt and trousers, pretends not to notice the hitch in Niall’s breath or the way his eyes dilate. He doesn’t think he can control himself, if it’s true. 

Gingerly lowering himself in the pool, Zayn holds tight to the side as the water comes up to his chest. “You ‘right?” Niall asks as he circles Zayn’s neck with his arms and oh, isn’t this a little too intimate? The quiet makes Zayn’s heart sound a bit louder, the light against the waters makes Niall look a bit gorgeous and god, he is just so, so close. 

“Y-yeah.” Zayn stutters, chokes, and tries to look at anything besides Niall’s inviting lips or the dip of his collarbones or the way his lashes cast shadows on pale skin. 

“Good.” Niall murmurs quietly, resting his head against Zayn’s shoulder and shit, shit, shit, friends don’t do this, do they? Not even them. Zayn feels blood rush down his body, feels warm breath tickle at his skin and – 

Small hands come up suddenly to push him, tearing him away from the edge of the pool as Zayn splutters around and oh, isn’t this a little familiar? “Lesson number one: rails are for wusses!” Niall says proudly with a giant grin on his face, grabbing onto Zayn’s hands before he can freak out, and leads him to shallow waters. 

“It’s alright, I got cha.” Niall says and Zayn feels the heat leave his body and calm take over as he follows him. He’ll deal with the tightening in his chest later, he thinks. Later, because now is for Niall and him and the cool of the swimming pool. 

 

 

A couple days later and Niall is lying in bed with a high fever, shaking uncontrollably and dripping with sweat. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” He mutters over and over into the crook of Zayn’s neck as comforting arms wrap themselves around his frame. “Just a fever,” he says. “I’ll be better.” He says. 

“Oh god, oh god. Niall, I told you, didn’t I? I told you that you’d catch a cold out there.” Liam mutters, pouring water down Niall’s throat and coaxing him to swallow with gentle hands. The room is a bit too quiet, Niall is a bit too cold and Zayn doesn’t like the way they hover over him. 

“Didn’t go to the beach. Pool.” Niall mutters, burying himself in warm arms and Zayn stiffens, feels sense start to seep around him. 

“Pool?” Liam questions, confused, but all Niall does is hum in agreement, too tired to open his eyes. 

“The water…it was funny. Not salty, not normal. Tasted like…tasted like metal? It was different.” He says through large, deep breaths, clutching on to Zayn’s shirt. He looks so small and vulnerable then in Zayn’s arms. His skin is sickly white, the sun has abandoned the yellow of his hair and Zayn has never felt so hopeless in his life. 

“No duh, it’s not the ocean Niall. It’s a pool, they put chlorine in there.” Louis scolds but Zayn can see the worry in his shaky hands as they come to push hair away from Niall’s face. They’re all a bit scared because Niall has never been so lifeless, never been so quiet and why does fear have to be such an all-consuming guilt? 

“Chlorine? Oh.” Niall gasps, a mere whisper, as realisation seems to hit him. 

A pause then, an aching silence, before Harry swallows the lump in his throat, gazes at Niall with all the worry in the world. “Are you…are you allergic to chlorine?” He forces out, his voice tight. He looks a right mess, Zayn thinks, with his curls all over his face and sticking out in different directions. They all do really – sleep hasn’t come to visit them since Niall woke with fever. 

“Dunno, dunno. Tired.” Niall brushes off, curls up into a ball to bury his head in Zayn’s chest. They leave it at that and leave Niall to rest, engulfed by sheets of white. Zayn stays a little longer with him, ignores the knowing eyes of the others as they file out slowly from the room. For a moment, Zayn considers sleeping there with Niall, holding him close until the heat has died down. He wants to lie next to him, watch his chest rise and fall and kiss his neck until everything is better and – 

Zayn hurriedly makes for the door, heart racing as his breath comes out uneven. That’s not what friends do, he reminds himself, and tries to forget.

 

 

Zayn checks on Niall after a couple hours, comes in with a class of cool water and a wet towel. Niall is already awake though, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he gazes at the other hazily. For a second, Zayn allows himself to admire mussed blond hair and flush cheeks, allows himself to fall a little deeper into that downwards spiral, before guilt start to claw its way around him.

The room suddenly feels a little too small, a little too hot and Zayn finds it hard to pick up the pieces. “’m sorry, ‘m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t know. I didn’t –“ He begins but Niall cuts him off, gives him that glorious smile as he pulls him down and rests his forehead against Zayn’s own. 

“It’s alright. I’m fine now, aren’t I? Stop worrying so much, you sound like Liam.” Niall laughs quietly, kisses Zayn’s cheek with warm lips before dashing out of bed. “I’m starving! D’you think Harry will cook for me?” He asks but Zayn is too lost in the lingering warmth in his cheek, in the missing comfort beside him, to notice anything besides the rising heat coursing through his veins. Realisation, Zayn thinks, creeps up like a haunting deadline and hits you like a speeding truck. 

 

 

There’s a distance between them, one Zayn knows Niall is desperately trying to fill with constant chatter and countless jokes. Zayn tries so hard to pretend everything is fine, tries so hard to turn things back into the way they were – but then Niall would touch him there, or kiss him here and Zayn finds himself pushing away all over again. Friends don’t think about other friends like that, he reminds himself. They don’t think about kissing them or marking them or making them theirs and oh god, this will be the death of him, won’t it?

The others don’t notice and if they do, they don’t say a word, for which Zayn is grateful for. It’s something he needs to deal on his own, he thinks. He just needs some space, some time to deal with this and hopefully get over it. Only, Niall doesn’t seem to let him and Zayn’s wondering if he even wants to get over this sort of all-consuming madness. 

“What’s wrong?” Niall asks one day, after a performance. They’re backstage in the waiting rooms, just the two of them because Louis can be a sneaky bastard when he wants to, because Niall doesn’t give up that easily. 

Zayn clears his throat and stares at a particularly interesting stain on the floor. He can’t even look Niall in the eye anymore and oh, when did it come to this? “Nothin’.” He says, rubs the back of his neck and closes his eyes because he just can’t look at Niall right now. Not when he’s looking so open and free and goddamn gorgeous and all Zayn can think about is kissing him. 

“You’re a horrible liar.” Niall says with a little smile. Forced, Zayn sees and guilt comes to greet an old friend. “Is it me?” He asks quietly, avoiding Zayn’s gaze. He sounds so vulnerable in that moment, so small, and Zayn wonders then what Niall’s like behind the laughter and life. 

“No, I – no, no, it’s not you.” He stutters and feels his throat close up. Maybe it is partly Niall’s fault, for making him love him so much, for making him feel a happiness so tangible it can’t possibly last. 

“Alright then. You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” Niall says gently and Zayn can see how he wants to move closer, but stops and Zayn’s heart sinks. When did this wall come between them? Wasn’t it just yesterday that Niall would come up and brush his hair and kiss his cheek and look at him as if he carried the world in his hands? “I miss you, though. There’s no quiff to block my view anymore.” Niall mentions half-heartedly after an aching silence and begins to make his way out. Zayn’s heart leaps at that and he can do nothing but follow it. 

“Wait!” He calls out, his hand shooting out to encircle a pale wrist. “I – It’s not… I want – I want to…” Zayn stumbles and dammit, he should’ve thought this through a little more. It’s just a little hard to concentrate when Niall is so close, looking at him with hopeful eyes and inviting lips and god, did he always look so beautiful? It should be criminal, the way his cheeks pink and – 

Warm, hesitant lips meet his own and Zayn’s heart stops. Niall’s eyes are closed, lashes resting against his cheeks and oh, this can’t possibly be real, can it? There’s a moment where he can do nothing but stare – but then Niall pulls the slightest bit back and Zayn finds confidence, grabs Niall by the back of his neck and pushes their bodies together until only heat surrounds them. Niall opens his mouth in a gasp and Zayn slips his tongue in, tastes the salt of the ocean and light of the sun, bites gently when he feels Niall press a smile against him. 

They only break apart to breathe and Zayn opens his eyes, finds hope and glory and desire standing right in front of him. “You’re a right idiot, you know. Been waitin’ forever.” Niall tells him, his accent thick and a grin on his glistening lips, and all Zayn can do is laugh and kiss him again and again until time is all eternal. 

 

 

They try to keep it secret for as long as they can. It’s a bit hard when Niall doesn’t do subtle, holds Zayn’s hands in front of flashing cameras, tells him he loves him to the entire world. It makes Zayn’s stomach dance and flutter, makes him feel like the world is at his feet. In those instances, he doesn’t worry about what will happen when people find out, how they’ll tell the other guys, what it’ll mean if this moment of complete euphoria finds its end. Zayn’s never been happier in his life and, even if it is fleeting, he knows he’ll always find his way back to Niall.

 

 

Niall begins to look a little bit green, a little bit tired right before their first tour. It makes Zayn worry, makes him pull at his hair and bite his lips, so he takes him to the one place he knows he adores and watches as life finds its way back to blond hair and wide smiles.

“Come in, come in!” Niall encourages, splashes around in the ocean and pulls at Zayn’s shirt. Zayn only brushes him off with a grin, kicking up water as he sits on the dock and watches Niall weave his way around as if he’s born live there.

“’m fine.” He says, leaning back to lie down on the dock beneath the pale light of the moon. There is a peaceful sort of silence as the wind blows gently at his face and Zayn finds himself counting the stars in the sky, hands outstretched as if he could reach the darkness of the night and hold it in the palm of his hand. 

A splash in the water, a thump, and suddenly Niall is kneeling beside him, staring intently down at him as if the universe laid in the cut of his jaw or the curves of his face. When the silence is enough, he leans in slowly to kiss him and Zayn smiles against his lips, pushes him back until Niall’s the one lying back on the dock staring up at him. 

He is all pale skin and flawless flesh and Zayn can’t help but think he is so lovely like that – with the moon in his eyes and the stars in his hair. He grins up at him and Zayn chuckles, places warm lips against his jaw, against his neck, against the beating of his rapid heart. It only serves to make Niall impatient, makes him grab Zayn by the back of his neck and kiss him so, so desperately. Hands come to pull at his shirt, taking it off in one clean motion and the chill of the night greets Zayn with open arms. There’s a look in Niall’s eyes when he looks back down, one full of desire and want and that madness they share – one he knows is reflected in his own. Tentatively, Niall pulls at his trousers and he obliges, sheds them along with his pants. 

God, they can’t really be doing this here, can they? In the middle of the night, in an open space where anybody can find them, with Niall dripping wet and smelling like an ocean shore. Niall doesn’t seem to care at all, takes off his own shorts and pants down in a similar manner and pulls Zayn back down towards him. Determined fingers reach out to encircle his cock, squeezing lightly, and oh, Zayn can’t think of anything else besides the warmth of Niall’s hand and the lips against his ear. Only the ragged breathing beneath him reminds him to reciprocate, Zayn biting hard into Niall’s shoulder when he runs his thumb against the slit. 

_Oh shit_ , Zayn thinks. Are they really going to do this? Are they really going to - ? But then Niall looks up at him with all the trust in the world and Zayn has never felt more in love. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” Niall comforts, runs his hand against a broad back in long, slow motions when he notices the shake in Zayn’s arms. 

“You’ve done it before? With a… you know, with a guy. ” Zayn murmurs and tries not to show the jealously burning fiercely in stomach. Just the knowledge that someone else was able to see Niall like this – all splayed out and open and completely vulnerable – makes Zayn’s throat close up. 

“Well, no. But how hard can it be? You just gotta stick yer prick up my arse, that’s all.” Niall says and suddenly, Zayn bursts out laughing, rests his head on Niall’s shoulders and tries to find his breath. As if he could make this sound any less romantic. 

“Alright, alright. I think I know what to do.” Zayn chuckles a bit to himself, but his fingers are shaky when he wets them with his tongue and snakes them down to Niall’s entrance. He prods gently, pulls at Niall’s cock softly when he makes a little face and finally, finally, pushes a finger in – slowly, barely. A groan escapes Niall and Zayn hushes him, places light kisses on his shoulders and neck until Niall is a whimpering mess beneath him. He pushes another finger in then, watches Niall’s face for any signs and kisses the hurt away. 

“Is this okay?” Zayn asks, when he’s working three fingers in and out of Niall. Slowly, so slowly.

The body beneath him hums and the hands on his back grip him a bit too tightly. “It’s alright, it’s fine.” Niall says and Zayn finds it too hard to wait any longer, gently pulls his fingers out and wets his straining cock. He wishes there was something to make this easier – lube, something, anything – besides the spit on his hands and the water of the ocean. But this is all they have and Zayn is so desperate, has wanted this for so long. 

Cautiously, Zayn guides his cock towards the pink of Niall’s hole with one hand and pushes gently, experimentally. “You alright?” He asks, stroking Niall’s prick with concern on his face. Niall gives a small nod and Zayn lets out a breath, pushes into that incredibly tight heat with restraint. 

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh fuck.” Niall groans when the head pops in, an arm across his face. His cheeks are flushed and his body strained and Zayn feels nervousness come up to consume him. 

“I’m sorry – I… dammit – “ Zayn stutters out, strokes Niall a little faster, kisses him a little harder and tries to pull out. Niall seems to laugh at that, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder in comfort and draw him back in. 

“S’okay. It’s good. Big. Gimme time.” He murmurs and strokes the smooth of Zayn’s cheek. 

Zayn smiles a little and rests his forehead against Niall’s own. It is a cold night, a moment of complete spontaneity Zayn takes with open arms. The wind nips at his fingers and the wood of the dock is hard on his knees. It is different, Niall is different – all angles instead of soft skin and wide hips – but Zayn drinks it in, bathes in the pale moonlight and for once, allows himself to be happy. 

 

 

It’s only a day later when they’re all hanging around in Louis’ apartment. It’s quiet, because Harry needs his sleep, because Niall needs the ocean. It’s hard not being around Niall but Zayn has to maintain a level of distance, has to keep this secret for as long as he can. He’ll be safe, Zayn thinks. Liam’s with him. He’s safe. 

It’s nice with Louis, peaceful. There’s a certain level of calm there he struggles to find with Niall who is all light and life and loud. It’s one suddenly and completely shattered when Louis turns to him mid-way during a movie and gives him that knowing, omniscient look. 

“I know.” Louis says then pauses, tries to find the right words before opting for honesty. “’Bout you and Niall.” He continues and Zayn feels a rising pressure burst in his chest. 

“W-what…” He stutters for a second, swallows the lump in his throat and avoids that piercing gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.” Zayn knows it’s a pathetic excuse but it’s better than nothing and maybe, if he’s lucky, Louis isn’t implying what he thinks he’s implying. Hopefully. 

“D’you think I’m an idiot?” Louis laughs, flicking the hair out of his eyes and Zayn feels defeat come to wrap itself around him. Oh shit, Zayn thinks. Shit, because he doesn’t know how the boys will take it, doesn’t know if they’re alright with this sort of relationship, doesn’t know if they’ll approve of Niall and him and oh, this is just too much right now. He’s not ready, he’s not ready – for this rejection, for this dismissal, for whatever it is they decide to throw at him and Niall. 

“How’d you know?” Zayn asks shakily and searches Louis for any sense of disgust or disapproval or loathing. Louis seems to notice his apprehension, the shine in his eyes and lets out a giant grin, slaps him on the back and circles an arm around his shoulder. 

“I dunno. Maybe it was the way you pinched his bum the other night, or how you got mopey when Liam carried him around.” Louis pretends to ponder, stroking at his chin before turning to him with mischievousness shining in his eyes. “Or maybe it was when you two snuck out yesterday night to fuck.”

“Lou!” Zayn cries out, mortified, cheeks pink and eyes wide as fear leaves him like early dew in a rising autumn. Of course Louis would be fine with it – Louis, who carries them on his back, moulds himself to fit any situation, changes to make them happy. 

“Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?” He laughs before ruffling the other’s hair, sticks his tongue out when Zayn pouts at him.

“Are we that obvious?” Zayn mumbles because he swears they’ve been careful – or, at least he’s been careful – and if it’s so obvious to Louis than how many other people have gotten the same idea? 

“Yeah, ‘course! You know Niall has no time for being discreet, and you’re so love struck it’s sickening. Took you guys long enough, you know. You’ve been making heart eyes at him since forever.” Louis adds, bats his eyelashes for effect and purses his lips together when Zayn flushes pink. 

“I don’t make heart eyes!” He cries out, pushes Louis away and tries to stare at him with a hard, cold look, only to falter when Louis lets out a laugh and wipes the tears from his face.

“Yeah, alright, keep tellin’ yourself that.” He says, then softens. “Congratulations though, can’t find a better match.” Louis murmurs with all the honesty and adoration in the world carried in his voice, in the light in his eyes, and Zayn has never felt so lucky to have friends like Louis. 

There is a small pause, a small silence then, before Zayn finds worry tapping on his door and courage is too far to ignore it. “Do you think – I mean, how are we gonna keep this a secret? Won’t it be bad for the band? What happens when they find out? I don’t… I don’t know what to do.” He mumbles because this is his biggest worry. One day, people will find out about them. One day, the world will turn their backs. Zayn’s not ready to fall when they’ve only just begun to fly, when there’s nothing but the hard ground below them.

Louis says nothing for a while, only stares at him with a bit of disbelief, and Zayn feels a bit unnerved by this Louis who could tear you apart piece by piece, find all your insecurities and problems and hidden secrets in a matter of minutes, then put you back together again with just a single look. “Huh. Niall’s right. You do worry about things that don’t matter.” He says finally. “You guys happy?”

“Yeah. More than ever.” Zayn says immediately, doesn’t even give it a second thought because he has never felt such an unadulterated love, a sense of complete security, like the one that consumes him whenever he’s with Niall. 

Louis seems to smile at that, turns back around to stare at the screen and continue the movie. “Then things will work out.” He says as if it’s as simple as that because, Zayn thinks, it _is_ as simple as that. 

“Thanks, Lou.” He smiles, grateful, before settling back into their routine, their familiar sense of comfort. Turns out, Zayn discovers a couple days later, all the boys had known about him and Niall a long time ago. They’d just been too involved in being decent friends to actually make a problem out of nothing. 

 

 

Things go well for Niall and Zayn. There are fights of course because Niall needs to know when to calm down, because Zayn needs to stop worrying so much, but they work through it and learn the art of compromise. It’s only a couple weeks later when Zayn asks Niall to move in with him and Niall agrees enthusiastically, kisses Zayn all over and suggests moving in sex. 

“Niall, what’s this?” Zayn asks when he’s unpacking one of Niall’s boxes, silver silk shining in his hands. He finds it beneath layers of clothes and seashells, glass bottles full of sand and sea water in a box labelled ‘home’ and nothing else. It’s smooth in his hands but he can’t tell what it is – it moves between his fingers like water and shines like the light against the sea. 

Silence comes to greet him with open arms and Zayn turns to Niall, sees wide eyes and shaky hands. Niall looks pale, unnaturally so. Not his usual glow at all and Zayn knows something is wrong. “Huh? Oh nothin’. I dunno. Let me see.” He mutters out quickly, snatches it out of Zayn’s hand and stuffs it in another box without a second glance. 

“What is it?” Zayn says carefully because sometimes Niall is a bit vulnerable, a bit broken. He treads closer to Niall as he goes back to fumbling with his guitar, eyes looking anywhere but into his own and places a warm hand against the back of his neck. 

Niall coughs, splutters almost, stands up again and moves away from him like a rabbit to a wolf. Zayn feels horrible because Niall looks on the verge of tears, looks so scared and open but curiosity is a rope that holds you like a vice. “Ah. Well. It’s… yeah it’s nothing.” He rasps out and Zayn can’t hold it in any more, grabs onto Niall and holds him close. 

“Niall, what’s wrong? You don’t have to tell me, I was just curious. It’s alright.” He whispers, runs a comforting hand up and down Niall’s back, presses a kiss to his temple. 

There’s a pause before Niall sucks in a deep breath and seems to contemplate a thousand thoughts in a matter of a few seconds. “No, no it’s not. Uh, I just. Take me to the beach? I’ll show you what it is.” He mumbles out, moves away from Zayn’s embrace to grab onto silk with shaking hands. Zayn agrees without a second thought, takes Niall’s hand in his and leads him to a blue skyline. 

 

 

Zayn walks with a heavy heart to the shallows of the water, concentrates on the sand beneath his feet and the wind biting at his skin. It’s a cold day and Zayn finds it hard to look at Niall who is so unlike himself – all weary eyes and worried glances. He turns to give him a wary look before walking deep into the waters, the silver silk like moonlight in his hands.

“Don’t… don’t say anything until later, alright?” Niall says and Zayn only nods, doesn’t understand a single thing going on. He ventures further into the ocean until he is waist deep and Zayn kicks sand into the water and eyes him warily. He watches him take in a deep breath before slipping the silver over his head and oh god, oh god, it’s not silk, it’s not silk, it’s – 

A seal pops its head up where Niall used to stand and Zayn feels his chest constrict, feels his heart beat like thunder and his head spin. He doesn’t understand a single thing, doesn’t understand what’s happening except that Niall just turned into a seal and – 

Selkie. Zayn remembers now, remembers the stories he used to read in English class but he can’t actually believe it. Niall is a selkie and Zayn moves closer to him, carefully, until he is close enough to reach out and touch the warmth of his skin. Doe eyes stare back at him and Zayn smiles because Niall is just as beautiful as he has always been, splashing around in the ocean and nipping at Zayn’s fingers. 

“You’re a selkie.” He murmurs, rubs his nose against Niall’s own and Zayn has never seen a seal look so relieved in his life.

 

 

“Will you… will you keep it for me?” Niall says later when they’re out of the ocean and lying dripping wet on the sand, and rolls on top of Zayn until he’s all he sees. The setting sun paints the sky with a golden hue and Niall looks a bit glorious like this, Zayn thinks, with the light behind him.

“What?” He mutters tiredly, tries to kiss Niall and watches as he jerks his head back towards the silver skin drying out in the sun. Oh, Zayn thinks. Not because he can’t, but because taking a selkie’s skin means taking their freedom. 

“Um… if you keep it for me, if you hide it somewhere, I can stay here forever.” Niall mutters, blushes red from the heat, from nerves and Zayn feels a rock fall into his stomach. 

“Niall – ”

“Please. Please, Zayn. I don’t want to go back. I don’t. But I… if you don’t hide it, something might happen one day and I won’t be able to stop myself and I’ll take it and go back to the ocean and I don’t want that.” Niall pleads and Zayn knows it’s the truth, knows selkies will return to the ocean, heed its call, unless someone hides their skin or – and he feels sick at the thought – burns it. 

“Alright, it’s okay. I’ll keep it safe for you.” Zayn whispers into a pale neck as Niall holds him close and mutters a thank you. Later, he realises it’s only partly because Niall looks so desperate. Mostly because love can be a bit selfish and Zayn sees the way Niall looks so longingly at the ocean, likes the sound of forever with Niall.


	2. against all discouragement that could be

“You’re a what?” Liam splutters when they’re all gathered in his apartment, hovering around in his bedroom. Zayn’s called an emergency meeting because _you need to tell them Niall, they deserve to know._

“It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s all fine. Nothing has to change, it means nothing.” Niall tries to say casually, flops on the bed and tangles himself in the sheets. _Trying to find something to hold on to,_ Zayn thinks – knows – because he basically has a degree in all things Niall, notices the way he brings up his hand to bite at his nails only to drop them and grip at the sheets. _Doesn’t want to show he’s scared._

“You’re a fucking seal, Niall.” Louis says without thinking and Zayn glares at him, moves over to sit on the bed with Niall and run fingers through his hair, place a gentle kiss on the smooth of his neck and offer a sought comfort. 

Niall seems to deflate a little at that, retreats into Zayn’s warmth and averts his eyes. “Selkie, selkie. I’m a selkie.” He whispers quietly, a bit shy, a bit insecure, and Louis melts. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I just – I just…” He trails off, lost for words because what are you supposed to say when your best friend tells you he’s a selkie?

“I know, I’m sorry. I would’ve – I should’ve told you earlier but I didn’t think… I didn’t think I’d ever be a part of something so big, or want to stay here for so long.” Niall mumbles, eyes fixed on the floor and the room settles into a tense silent. They’re walking on tightropes and there’s nothing below. 

Liam seems a bit weary, looks everywhere around the room as if he’s searching for an explanation written in the walls, in the curve of the windows and the wood of the floor. “Are your parents or Greg –“ He begins but Niall cuts him off. 

“No, no. They’re human. They’re the ones who took me in when I first came on land. Showed me how things work, you know?” He mutters, and bites his nails at the edges as Zayn runs a comforting hand up and down his back. 

Before silence can settle again, Harry seems to finally find his voice. “What’s gonna happen now?” He asks, a question on everyone’s minds. 

“Nothing, nothing has to happen. It’s not like I’ve just become a selkie or anything. I was one at the beginning, I was one throughout all of this. It’s just… it explains some things now.” Niall sounds a bit out of breath, a bit exhausted. The light seems to have abandoned his eyes, his hair, his skin, leaving only a forgotten vulnerability and a dull ache in Zayn’s chest.

Realisation seems to fill the room as the others let out a held breath and Liam visibly relaxes. “Oh. Like why you’re always at the beach.” He exhales and runs a hand through mused hair. 

“Or why you got sick from the chlorine.” Louis adds because selkies don’t do chlorine and chemicals and suddenly dread seeps through the cracks because oh god, oh god, Niall could’ve seriously been hurt, couldn’t he have been? It’s completely suffocating and Zayn sees how Niall seems to withdraw into his arms and lean his head on his shoulder. Suffocating, suffocating, completely and unbearably so. _Bad idea,_ Zayn thinks. _Should’ve waited, should’ve thought this through._

Harry clears his throat after a moment and moves over to sit beside Niall. “Is it true then? I mean, I’ve read that… well, apparently, selkie chicks are really fit.” Harry says with a smirk and the tense atmosphere breaks like a taunt wire. Niall grins brightly at him, looking completely grateful, wraps his arms around his neck and holds on tight. They all take it surprisingly well, Zayn thinks. Maybe because it’s Niall, maybe because their life is already so completely unbelievable, a little more couldn’t hurt. 

 

 

They begin their first ever tour shortly after and excitement seems to buzz all around them. They celebrate until late, soak up the rest of London before moving off to America and everything is alight with the glow of an accomplished dream. They don’t worry about what will happen to Niall when they’re too busy to take him to the ocean, when there’s too little time to give him what he needs to survive the pollution and chaos and disaster that is the land. It’s a fever, a frenzy, and what can they do but live in its moment? Problems are for later, Zayn reminds himself. Problems are for later. 

 

 

A couple hours before sound check and Niall is bouncing up and down back stage, pulling on any arm he can find and running them around the set. He hasn’t been calm since they’ve landed in America, typical for Niall, but Zayn still worries because oh, was he always so pale? “Can we go to the beach?” Niall asks the boys and he looks so hopeful, Zayn’s ready to tell him _yes, of course, wherever you want_ before Liam butts in. 

“What? Niall, no, we have a concert in five hours!” He says, adjusting his mike. He’s right of course. They don’t have time, haven’t had time for that since the start of the tour but god, Zayn would just drop everything if he could to take Niall to some place familiar. 

“Please, just for a bit?” Niall asks, begs almost, a little too desperately, and Zayn’s already beside him with an arm around his waist, ready to take him wherever the hell he wants. 

Liam eyes him cautiously, gives Zayn that look that just screams _‘don’t even think about it’_. “We’re on tour Niall, we can’t just go to the beach whenever.” Liam says gently, ruffles Niall’s hair affectionately and gives his hand a little squeeze. 

“I’ll go then, alone.” He suggests and even though he says it, they all know he won’t be alone. Zayn will follow him to the ends of the earth and Niall will lead him willingly, will show him the entire world to make him happy.

“Do you think you can just go out there without being mobbed?” Louis laughs as he walks past and Niall slumps, falls into Zayn’s embrace as gentle lips meet his temple because he’s right too, isn’t he?

“We’ll go right after Niall, right after we finish this show. Is that okay?” Zayn whispers in his ear, breath hot and heavy against its shell. It’s a bit of a lie because they both know they can’t go anywhere. A bit of the truth because if Niall begs enough, kisses and bites and sucks, Zayn will crumble like the leaves of a dying autumn. 

It’s then, when Niall’s looking completely dejected, that Zayn reaches into a bag and pulls out a shell about as large as his hand, about as pink as a setting sun, and hands it to Niall. “What’s this?” He asks, runs smooth hands over its surface, over its bumps and lines, and holds it completely reverently as if it could break just from his stare. 

“It’s a conch shell. You put it up to your ear and you can hear the ocean. Kinda smells like it too.” He explains and Niall goes to hold it up to his ear and listen to a distant sea. His face breaks out into a massive grin and for a moment, there’s a glow in his eyes uncaused by the overhead lights. He’s so beautiful, Zayn thinks. Completely beautiful and completely his. 

“Thank you Zayn!” Niall smiles brightly and pulls him down for a kiss and runs a tongue over warm lips. It’s a bit different this time though, not like the ones before where Zayn finds himself lost in everything Niall. Maybe because Niall doesn’t taste like the salt of the sea any more, smells like Zayn’s cigarette smoke and the city streets. Maybe because all Zayn can feel is the cold of his lips, the shaking of his hands. Or, maybe it’s because Niall’s falling and Zayn’s not sure he’ll be able to catch him when he lands. 

 

 

It’s been a long day. They’ve just finished another show and all Zayn wants to do is lie down and sleep as their tour bus moves along. It’s quiet for once because Niall’s finally stopped playing on his guitar, because the others are all too tired to do anything but close their eyes for a couple minutes, and Zayn finds temporary rest in silence. 

Niall snuggles next to him, close, in his single bed. He tucks his head beneath a chiselled jaw and Zayn smiles, content, as he wraps an arm around the other and holds him tight. Sleep comes to him easily and he falls into its arms, feeling completely warm and safe and happy.

It lasts for only a minute before the sound of running water comes crashing in like thunder and Zayn wakes to an empty space besides him. Niall’s not there, probably gone off to record for a bit and Zayn groans, pulls a pillow over his head to block out the noise. It doesn’t seem to stop, echoing through the bus with a _swish swish swish_ , and really, enough is enough. He rips back the drapes separating his bed, ready to tell whoever it is off for wasting water, for waking him up and –

Only, it’s Niall standing in front of the sink, one hand beneath the flow of the water, the other fiddling with the taps. His eyes are glazed over, his mind is somewhere else and Zayn feels hope seep out between his fingers.

Not good, not good, a voice spins in Zayn’s head. Not good because they’re losing Niall, not good because _he’s_ losing Niall. Not good because Zayn’s starting to realise the one thing Niall needs is the one thing he cannot give him. 

 

 

“What are we gonna do?” Harry whispers when they’re in a hotel room. Zayn’s told them about what he’s seen – about Niall’s complete thirst for anything water – and the others fall into a shared understanding and an imposing sense of fear. 

“We can sneak out, at night. Find a beach and take him there.” Louis suggests a bit nervous as he swings back and forth on his chair, flicks the hair out of his face and eyes the open window. They all nod at the idea because it wouldn’t be the first time they sneak out and as long as they have each other, they’ll find their way around this strange city. 

“Where is he?” Liam asks, picking up a coat and readying himself for the chill of outside.

“In the bathroom.” Zayn murmurs absentmindedly and ignores the way Harry’s eyes seem to pop out of his head, wide and worried and completely dilated.

“What? He’s been in there for over an hour now!” Harry says and suddenly, the weight of his words seems to fall like the pelt of rain during a winter storm as Zayn races for the bathroom door and slams it open with all the force in the world. 

“Niall! Are you alright?” He calls out, quickly scanning the room for any signs of threat before landing on a boy in a bathtub, soaked and wrinkled through. 

Niall takes a moment to lift his head and when he does, his eyes are unfocused and searching, and it makes Zayn feel a little sick. “Huh? Oh yeah, I just wanted to be in the water.” He says quietly, goes back down to stare at the waves in his hand and a broken reflection. 

Zayn swallows the lump in his throat, ignores the tightening of his chest and tries desperately to dry the tears in his eyes. “Come out, come out. You’re gonna get sick.” He says, goes over to grab gently at Niall’s arm and pull him out. His skin is withered, his eyes unseeing and oh, misery is a horrible creature that feasts on false hope and desperation. 

Niall doesn’t pull his arm away from Zayn’s hold but looks up to meet him instead. “No, it’s okay. Just a bit longer.” He reasons and Zayn understands him completely, lifts a hand to push wet hair back with a little smile. 

“Move forward a bit.” He instructs as he makes to pull off his shirt and Niall listens, scoots a bit so there’s enough space behind him. Zayn pulls of his pants before stepping into the space made for him and god, it’s as freezing as an English winter. A bit like the ocean, Zayn realises and forces himself to sink behind Niall and pull him close until back meets chest. He presses warm lips against the back of Niall’s neck, licks a trail of water from his shoulder to his ear and Niall shudders, holds his hand and squeezes it tight. 

“Thanks.” Niall whispers. “Thank you so much.” He says and all Zayn does is kiss his neck a little harder, hold him a little closer and pretend everything is completely and absolutely fine as the earth beneath them crumbles. 

 

 

Fresh water and porcelain tubs aren’t the same as salt winds and bitter waves, Zayn learns, when Niall lies in bed that night with a familiar high fever, flushed cheeks and pallid skin. “It’s alright.” Niall mutters as Zayn wipes away his sweat, leaves a trail of warm touches all over his face. “Just a cold,” he says. “It’ll go away.” He says. 

Zayn doesn’t reply as he holds on tighter. Small, pale hands are twisted in the material of his shirt, clinging on to him so desperately – _too_ desperately. Zayn runs his hands up and down Niall’s back in a steady rhythm, draws soothing patterns on flawless skin, draws the waves of a familiar ocean. He places light, delicate kisses on Niall’s neck and holds him tight until his unsteady breathing has evened out and all that is left is the looming silence between them. 

 

 

“He can’t keep going like this.” Liam murmurs, right before a show. It’s just the four of them backstage in a little room because Niall’s probably off somewhere, drinking a thousand cups of water or dipping his fingers into the cool of a glass. 

“We know.” Louis says, looking completely forlorn and Zayn has never seen the boys so completely out of their depth. 

“He needs to go back.” Liam states but Harry glares at him with all the might in his being and pushes himself off a stereo. 

“No, he doesn’t! We’ll figure something out, he’s not leaving! He can’t leave us!” He bursts, eyes red from lack of sleep, cheeks pink from desolation. 

“Harry, calm down. Just think.” Louis says, moves over to run a comforting arm up and down his back. “Things are only going to grow from here – more interviews, more concerts, more tours. Do you think Niall will be able to handle that? I don’t want him to leave us, but I don’t want him to… I don’t want – I don’t want him to be like this either.” He stumbles and god, it must be so hard for Louis to remain strong when everything is going wrong. 

“He has to go back.” Liam says again then looks over at Zayn who has done nothing but stare at the floor and remain silent. “Zayn?” He questions and all eyes fall on him, expecting something, anything, to keep them from drowning. 

Zayn clears his throat, averts his eyes and tries a small smile. “Just… just give me some time.” He says. Just a little more time. 

 

 

Zayn decides to take Niall out the next day, far out into the ocean on a fishing boat despite a tight schedule and a swarm of warnings because _you’ll never make it back in time, you know that?_

“C’mon, c’mon, hurry! I wanna swim, I wanna swim!” Niall cries out excitedly, rocking the boat from side to side. It’s a change from the Niall of before, whose eyes were as dull as stormy skies, as broken as the clouds of dawn. 

“Hey, I can take as long as I want. I’m the one doing all the work here.” Zayn says as he paddles the oars, a giant grin across his face. The sun is shining brightly, burning against his skin, and the ocean is as blue as the sky. It’s the perfect day for fishing, the perfect day for forgetting about yesterday and finding tomorrow. 

Niall rolls his eyes, huffs out a breath and Zayn can’t help but laugh at him. He’s adorable really, all pink cheeks and exuding excitement. “This is fine, this is fine! Stop rowing, we’re far enough!” Niall says and makes to stand up. The boat tips back and forth and Zayn grips the sides of the boat in a vice, feels fear looming over him as Niall swings his arms back and forth and leaps out into the air before diving into the depths of the sea.

For a second, there’s only the rippling of the water and the silence of the sea around Zayn. For a second, Zayn feels just the slightest hint of worry as his eyes search for a small figure and a mop of sunbeam hair. But then a head suddenly pops out of the surface, a mouthful of water is spat directly on his face and Zayn finds himself staring at the epitome of beauty, too entranced to care because Niall is looking at him with so much love and warmth and affection. 

“You’re the best Zayn!” He smiles brightly at him, far brighter than the sun or the moon or the stars and Zayn knows nothing could ever compare to the person before him. Wet hair clings to the sides of his face and cold, icy water drips down a soaked shirt but Niall is happy. He is happy for the first time in a long time, far happier than expected and far happier than he is on land with Zayn, the other notes with a slight frown. 

And maybe, Zayn thinks as he watches Niall glide slowly over the rippling water, maybe this is where Niall should be. Maybe he should be out here, free in the ocean instead of being trapped on land in the arms of a selfish boy. It’s not where Zayn wants him to be and probably not where Niall wants to be but, as Niall looks lovingly at the ocean surface, it’s where he should be.

 

 

Despair comes to visit in all its glory one early morning, right after their trip to the depths of the sea – comes to eat at a temporary peace and destroy a blooming sense of security. Zayn wakes to the hues of sunrise, to an emptiness besides him. The hotel room is silent, cold, and Niall feels like a distant memory, a lost dream. 

“Niall?” Zayn calls out, careful not to wake the others in the room besides him. Only the sound of his heaving breathing responds and Zayn rips off the covers, goes pacing around the house with his phone ready in hand. The living area is empty, the bath room is empty, there’s nothing except –

A small figure sits on the balcony, crouched in the corner, hiding. It’s a figure Zayn has remembered by heart, one he has touched and tasted and owned. There’s that conch shell he’s given him – the one he said he’d use scarcely because he’d never miss the ocean when he has Zayn – pressed tightly against his ear. His eyes are glazed over, staring longingly at the sky, and Zayn discovers what it feels like to complete and utterly hopeless for the first time in his life. 

 

 

Dinner is a quiet affair. They decide to order in, just the two of them. There are no words, no conversations. It’s only the clacking of plates and the clinking of glasses and Zayn finds it hard to do anything besides look at the person across from him. Niall doesn’t eat either as he pokes at his fish and plays with his glass of water. Zayn watches as he dips his hand in the glass and slowly drags his finger across the table, leaving a trail of water in its path. A picture, Zayn makes out. He can see the waves of the ocean, the bright sun above and oh, is that Niall there in the middle of it all?

“Do you want to go back?” Zayn asks suddenly, hands gripping tightly on his cup.

“What? No! You know that. ” Niall answers back immediately, head snapping up to meet Zayn with desperate, desperate eyes. He seems to pause for a moment to look at Zayn, tries to find something in him and looks back down when all he sees is anticipation and a broken kind of hope Zayn has never worn before.

“Will you go back?” He asks this time and Niall hesitates in answering because they both know you can’t really keep a selkie from the sea forever. They’ll make it home somehow. Niall’s fingers go back to moving against the grain of wood and all Zayn wants to do is grab his hand and stop him because god, isn’t he supposed to be happy? Zayn’s tried so hard, why isn’t he happy?

“No, of course not.” Niall forces out, swallows a lump in his throat and Zayn hears him lie for what feels like the first time. It’s a lie Zayn forces himself to believe in as he closes his eyes for a moment to try and steady the beating of his erratic heart. It’s a lie Niall tells in order to breathe hope into a hopeless man and Zayn finds that it works, if only for a second. 

Zayn opens his eyes then and dips his hand into the icy waters of his glass. Niall’s drawing is still on the table, the one with the ocean and the sun and the little figure swimming in the middle of it all. It’s slowly drying, slowly disappearing like the future Zayn thought they could have together, but it’s still there. So he leans over to it, presses a wet finger against the table and begins to draw his own little figure besides Niall’s own and gives it a giant quiff. There’s a small smile on his lips when he looks up, one mirrored by a pale face, and a silent promise on his fingertips as he finishes his figure on the table. It’s a silly little drawing but, as Niall touches cold, wet fingers to a tanned cheek, Zayn finds himself believing in that silly little drawing.

 

 

Zayn gets a message to meet in Louis’ hotel room right before the last show in America and to bring Niall with him. He obliges easily, wraps an arm around Niall’s waist and leads him gently through an open door. Three pairs of eyes immediately fall on them and Zayn feels Niall stiffen in his arms, push himself closer against broad shoulders. 

“What’s wrong, what’s going on?” Niall asks a bit hysterically, head whipping around the room. Sullen eyes in sullen faces and Zayn feels heavy with guilt. 

“Niall…” Liam begins but falters when Niall turns to him with those wide, blue eyes, and crumbles under the way Niall’s lip seems to tremble.

Louis decides to take the lead then, because it’s his duty isn’t it? To be strong when the others are not. “You have to go back to the ocean.” Louis says and tries to put a comforting hand around Niall’s arm but Niall pulls away, whips around to stare at him frantically.

“What? No, I don’t. I told you I’m fine!” He lies, looks over at Zayn for help and all he can do is try his best to comfort Niall with the warmth of his arms and the touch of kisses. It only serves to make Niall glare at him and Zayn retreats back because god, he can’t do anything when he knows the other boys are right. Niall has to go back.

“You have to, this isn’t your home.” Louis continues and Niall seems to droop at that, accepts the hand Harry places in the small of his back willingly.

“Are you – do you not want me?” He stumbles out, voice a little deeper, accent a little thicker and Harry’s seams begin to stretch taunt. 

“Don’t you say that! Don’t you ever say that! We’d kill for you Niall, you know that!” He bursts out, grabs Niall’s shoulders and turns him around to look into pools of absolute green. There’s a way in which Harry looks at Niall that makes Zayn’s blood a bit hotter, makes his skin crawl. There’s something there, something in the way Harry’s knuckles turn white from his grip on the smaller, something in the way Harry looks at Niall as if he’s the only person that matters, that makes Zayn pull Niall towards him to keep envy at bay. Snip the bud before it blooms, Zayn thinks. 

“How much do you know about selkies? Do you know that, once they return to the ocean, they can’t come back on land for seven years? Do you know that? I’ve been back before and it’s not – I can’t come on land at all, ever, for those seven years.” Niall swallows and a deathly silence settles around them. Zayn feels himself pale, feels his chest constrict painfully so and a vice close around his throat. Seven years. Seven whole years just to see him again. Oh shit, he thinks. Oh fucking shit and Zayn tightens his hold on Niall until he’s sure they’ll be bruises imprinted on that soft skin. He can’t fucking breathe. Oh god, someone please save him. 

“What’s gonna happen to the band, what’s gonna – “ Niall continues, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, and Liam seems to be the only one able to break from stupor enough to actually say anything.

“We don’t care about the band! We care about _you_.” He says but Zayn can’t hear anything beyond the beating of his heart and the mantra in his head screaming _‘no, no, no’_. He loosens his grip on Niall and his legs give way, falls on the bed with an audible thump. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe. Oh god, oh god, please let this be a dream.

“You’re getting worse, you need to go back.” Louis adds shakily but receives only a glare because Niall can be stubborn sometimes, because Niall values people over himself. 

“I’m not going back. You can’t make me.” Niall says finally, giving everyone a last look before striding away like a hurricane, leaving a mess of hurt and anger and completely emptiness in his wake. 

Liam sighs at that, rubs his temples furiously as if it could get rid of the pounding in his head. “Zayn, you have to –” 

“Time. Just give me more time.” Zayn cuts him off, stares at the carpet beneath his feet as the ground comes up to swallow him whole. 

“We don’t have –“ Harry tries to protest but Zayn decides enough is enough, stands and heads towards the open door.

“More time.” He says a little more sternly, defiantly, and storms out the door behind Niall. He just needs a little space, a little time, a little something to help him stay afloat in this vast sea of hopelessness.

 

 

Zayn’s back in his hotel room, lying flat on his bed and staring at a blue ceiling. He’s trying to get his thoughts in order, trying to remain calm and not feel like he’s absolutely dying out here. It’s a bit hard because there’s only the mocking sound of _seven years_ dancing in his head and Zayn feels like he’s choking all over again. Niall seems to notice this, climbs on top of him, rests his palms on either side of Zayn’s head and stares down at him with deep cerulean eyes. “You’re not going to make me go back, are you?” He asks and Zayn sees the ocean in his eyes, the sun in his hair and decides to do what’s best. This will be the death of him, he knows, but rather him than Niall. It’s all for Niall.

“No, I’d never.” Zayn says, pushes the other gently off and rolls them over. He places a small kiss against the shell of a pale ear and lingers there for a moment, soaking up the feeling of the body beneath him and relishing in the goose bumps that arise on Niall’s skin from his breath, before moving off to rummage through his luggage.

Niall pushes himself up to watch, stares at Zayn as he goes digging through piles of clothes and sketchbooks and pencils. “Promise?” He asks completely sincere as Zayn picks up a strange wooden chest and puts in on the bedside table for Niall to see. 

“I promise.” Zayn says, and means it. Niall will go back all on his own. Selkies can never really resist the ocean, can they? Especially when their selkie skin is just beside their bed now, ready for the taking.

 

 

Night comes and Niall is tangled in the bed sheets with Zayn above him, a while after their last show in this foreign land. It’s different this time though, when Zayn caresses soft skin. It’s different because Zayn is everything but gentle as he bites Niall’s shoulder hard enough to bruise, sucks a deep red mark into the skin of his neck and soothes it with a wet tongue. It’s different because Zayn is so, so desperate, shaking above Niall as he hurriedly coats his fingers with lube and pushes them deep inside the warmth of Niall’s hole. 

“Shh.” Zayn hushes as he nudges Niall’s legs further apart, maybe to silence his own beating heart, maybe to stop himself from falling apart. Pale hands come up to push away the hair against his forehead, to brush away tears Niall has never seen before. Wide eyes stare back at him full of fear and guilt and Zayn pulls his fingers out with little care, slicks himself up and places himself between open, pale thighs. He thrusts in just a little too roughly and Niall arches his back, digs blunt nails into the flesh of Zayn’s back.

Zayn feels his head spin, feels his heart trying to jump out of his throat and god, escape is what Niall needs but it’s definitely not what Zayn wants. “Don’t leave.” He whispers quietly into Niall’s neck because he was wrong when he believed he was ready, wasn’t he? He just needs a little more time, just another day and then he’ll do this over again and he’ll be ready to watch Niall walk away this time. But not now, not now, definitely not now. “Don’t leave.” He repeats and bites Niall’s shoulder hard because Niall is not leaving him, he just can’t. Silence greets Zayn in return and it’s so, so quiet that Zayn isn’t sure if Niall’s heard him at all. 

“… I won’t.” A small voice finally breaks through and Niall pulls Zayn impossibly closer whispering comforting words of love and hope and deceit in his ear. “I won’t.” He chants endlessly and Zayn can feel the tears press against his skin, feel those blunt nails dig desperately into his arms. 

They’re lies, his words are lies. This, Zayn knows. Niall speaks lies but a desperate man can find comfort in the strangest of places and Zayn finds it in words of deceit and betrayal and love. It helps him to breathe, helps him to find peace for a second so that he can hold onto a moment that will be their last. 

 

 

Zayn wakes to the deafening sound of silence and sunlight streaming through an open door. The chest near his bed is empty besides the droplets of water that remain as a reminder of the selkie skin it once held. It’s cold in his bed, far colder than it should be, and Zayn just knows an empty room awaits him with haunting arms. He doesn’t get up, only stares at a bright blue ceiling – blue, like his eyes, like his beautiful, beautiful eyes – and forces himself to just breathe. He clenches his eyes tight and tries to block out the sunlight. He tries to forget, tries to sink within the darkness and just forget because at least then he wouldn’t have to go through _this_. At least then he wouldn’t know what it feels like to be so _alone_. 

A pillow is thrown across the room – the one that smells too much like the sea and the sun – and Zayn finds himself trying to grasp on to anything around him because drowning men are such desperate men. His hands reach out to find nothing and oh, how silly of him because of course there wouldn’t be a warm body for him to hold and touch and never let go. There is absolutely nothing and Zayn finally realises just how little he had to begin with.

 

 

Hours pass and Zayn hears the jangling of keys before a door creaks open. It’s Liam of course, coming to check up on him, coming to tell him to get ready for their flight. A loud _'Niall'_ echoes through the room and Zayn visibly flinches as he lies face down on the bed and tries to forget. He can hear footsteps approaching and readies himself for Liam’s lectures on _moving on_ and _you knew this would happen, it couldn’t end any other way_. He expects Liam to tell him how he was wrong, how he should have let Niall leave because at least then it wouldn’t have accumulated to this consuming sense of alone. How it would have been so different if they’d just learn to stop sailing a sinking ship. 

But Liam is a good friend. 

So instead, Zayn hears the shuffling of steps and a loud thump. He looks up this time to see Liam in his room on his knees, picking up clothes – Niall’s clothes, the ones Zayn had thrown carelessly around because isn’t it easier to forget? – with gentle hands. Zayn notices the way Liam’s fingers linger, notices how hard it is for him to pick up the pieces of a broken home and oh, how many hearts did Niall break?

 

 

When Liam is finished trying to make the room look the least bit decent, when Zayn has no more tears to cry, they make their way to Louis’ room with heavy steps as Liam places a comforting hand on Zayn’s shoulder and tries to hold in tears threatening to spill from his eyes. His grip is a little too tight to be comforting – more tense and desolate than anything – and Zayn knows Liam feels the same sort of complete nothingness he feels. 

They knock only once before Harry’s ripping the door open, searching for something – a mop of blonde hair, a pair of blue eyes – before finding nothing and his face crumbles into a stream of tears and a sense of denial, retreats back into the room to fall onto the bed and rest his head in his hands. Zayn wants to run over and hug him, wipe his eyes and tell him it’ll be okay – but he’s not sure Harry wants comfort right now and he’s not keen on lying, either.

Louis comes to run a hand along Zayn’s back because god, this must be the hardest on him, right? Zayn feels like falling in his arms because he’s so sick of trying to be strong and all he wants to do is lie down and pretend everything is a horrible dream. One look in Louis’ bloodshot eyes and Zayn forgets everything. They don’t need to be worrying about him too. 

“I know…” Harry says before silence descends for too long. “I know you did what you had to, but I thought I’d at least get to say good bye.” He chokes out, then breaks and Zayn decides he’ll hold everything in, even if it kills him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they’ll be one more short part to this, an epilogue, to tie things up. for updates or questions, you can find me [here](http://sailorharry.tumblr.com/). c:


	3. for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha ha........ sorry this took so long! also, apologies for how rushed it may seem. i ran out of steam. orz

Here is a secret that only few know. Niall is a selkie, he breathes in the ocean and lives in its arms. He needs the water, needs to swim in its salt and bathe in its hold, and when he comes back to it, he won’t come back to you. It is the truth but it is still a secret – so when they’re asked why they’ve decided to end their career at their peak, no one says a word as flashing lights consume the empty space beside them. Not a sound, not a word.

 

 

Zayn’s eyelids are heavy as he takes his seat on the plane. He lets them fall and only opens them again when they’re high above the air, far away from memories that try to haunt him. It’s only then he notices that no one has said a single word, the silence now oppressively looming over him. 

Louis is unusually quiet for once, staring placidly at the back of Liam’s seat, and Harry seems so small, curled up in a tiny ball. Zayn knows he should say something because he was closest to Niall. They all were, but him and Niall they had – they were – they…

Zayn slumps back into his seat, closes his eyes and tries to calm down. He doesn’t need this right now. Everything has gone by so fast, all Zayn wants to do is rest and forget. But sleep cannot find him when his mind is a storm of regret and hurt and betrayal so he chooses instead to gaze at the small world below them and touch reverent fingers to the cool glass of the window. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve been home.” He murmurs, more to himself than anyone, and he wonders then, where home is now. Whether it is somewhere in the ocean, drinking up the salt and the sand and not caring at all that people are dying here without him – it. 

America seems a far off distance now, just an empty plane below them but Zayn’s realised now you can’t run away from your problems no matter how much distance you try to put between.

 

 

“That was management. They’re asking for more interviews.” Liam says when he gets off the phone. It’s dark in Harry’s house. They’re all gathered about the couch, trying to regain some sort of balance but it’s just so goddamn sombre and quiet and Zayn is just so sick of quiet. He wants someone to get angry, he wants someone to scream and lose control and admit that Niall is horrible and selfish and the worst thing that has ever run into their lives so that maybe it would be okay for him to do it too. 

“No, no more goddamn interviews. I’m so sick of this. We’re done already, aren’t we? Why can’t they just leave us alone?” Louis spits eventually, patience stretched thin. They’ve given as many as they could, given the same bullshit explanation of _‘it’s time to move on’_ , but no one seems to believe them and no one can seem to stop asking where Niall is. _Who fuckin’ cares where he is now_ , Zayn thinks and immediately regrets because yeah, he cares a whole fucking lot. 

“Maybe we could do one more. They said this will be the last one. Might get everyone off our backs.” Harry tries to reason quietly, head bowed. He’s tired, they’re all tired, but Harry seems so far more lost than he’d expect. There was something there between him and Niall, Zayn knows this, and perhaps, if things had gone a bit differently, it’d be Harry who knows the curve of Niall’s back and the freckles on his shoulders. 

Louis huffs, flops onto the couch effortlessly as stress and sleepless nights begin to catch up on him. “They said that last time, fuckin’ bastards. I’m not doing anymore interviews, alright? They just need to accept this and get the bloody hell over it.” He says with a wave of his hand and Liam looks at him wearily, too tired to argue back.

“Zayn? What do you think?” Liam asks him instead, caught between giving what the public wants and, for once in his goddamn life, doing what he wants.

There is a pause, and Zayn looks up from staring a hole into the carpet to see three pairs of eyes following his every move. “I think,” He begins, before making his way to Harry’s room to fall into his bed. “I think I need a break.” It’s not what they want to hear, not the inspiring words or comfort they need _because oh, you know Niall the best don’t you? You know what he’d want us to do._

Zayn knows, but he’s done with doing everything for a person whose face is now nothing but a blur of blond and blue.

 

 

In bold, dark letters are words that haunt Zayn in his sleep. He’s too far to read the whole story, but he can see an image of them on the front cover, the words ‘end’ and ‘over’ and ‘break up’ on the cover and it makes his chest tighten agonizingly.

Harry runs his fingers over the ink, still fresh, before burying his head into a mess of ripped paper and regret. Zayn thinks he’s crying, knows he’s crying, as his eyes scrunch into slits and his body starts to shake. “It’s all over, huh?” Harry hiccups and before Zayn can even speak, Liam runs over to tuck a head of curls beneath his chin.

Louis seethes beside Zayn, and when he speaks, his voice is bitingly cold. “Maybe for you,” he says, storms up to Harry to snatch the newspaper from his hands. “Maybe for you but I’ll be damned if I let some shitty writer from a shitty newspaper tell me what I can and can’t do.” Louis says. His voice is low, he speaks in restrained whispers, but his words are deafeningly painful. 

“Did you really think this was going to last forever? So what if it ends a couple years earlier? We still have each other, don’t we? We can still do other things, can’t we?” He spits, and there are tears in his eyes now and strain against his throat “You guys are acting as if someone’s died! Didn’t you listen to Niall? He’ll be back in seven years! Stop acting like he’s not going to come back, like we can’t pick this up and start again after seven years.”

Louis’ voice is so bitter but he speaks in truths and Harry can’t help but sniffle and suck up his tears. “Yeah.” He murmurs after a moment, looking at Louis with a new found hope Zayn had lost long ago. “We can start again.” 

Louis’ face softens then and he falls onto the bed beside Harry, gives Liam a small smile he returns brightly. They look at peace, for once, and Zayn feels so alone outside their glowing bubble of hope and patience because he knows that though Niall can come back in seven years, it doesn’t mean he will.

 

 

The world keeps spinning, Zayn realises, even when you’re standing still. Of course, they don’t ever really perform together again – not with only four members, that’s hardly any direction – but they carry on as best as they can. Louis and Liam go on composing songs and Harry and Zayn go on collaborating with other people, writing songs here and there when inspiration hits. It’s a nice sort of normality Zayn clings onto as he washes away hurt with sleep, time with work.

 

 

They’re all invited to an after party one night because even though their names are no longer in flashing lights, they’re forever set in stone. Zayn’s hesitant in going. He wants to stay home, mourn a little longer, sleep a little less and hold onto pieces of fractured memories scattered through his apartment. It doesn’t seem right to go out when there’s a missing warmth Zayn tries hard to remember, tries harder to forget.

But Louis is Louis and he is convincing and unrelenting and Zayn finds himself dragged to the clubs, shrouded in artificial light and wisps of smoke. Louis never tells him to get over it, or forget about it, or even to move on – but he introduces Zayn to a pretty girl in a pretty band and Zayn thinks he gets the message. She smiles at him dazzlingly and though hesitant, Zayn decides to follow her to the dance floor. Maybe he does need to move on, he realises, as the world passes him by. 

They glide onto the dance floor seamlessly, and she wraps her arms around his neck. He’s drawn to her then, by the warmth of her body and the shadows caught in her hair. He’s drawn to her, in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time – but then she looks up at him and the spell breaks like the waves on the coast and he is left with nothing but regret wound tight around his throat. 

Her eyes are not the right blue, her hair is too white and she feels so, so wrong in his arms. Zayn pushes her away, gently, shakes his head and tries to fade back into the dark. “Zayn?” She asks, concerned. She is beautiful, so very kind, but she is not Niall and he does not want her. 

“’m sorry, ‘m sorry. I can’t – I can’t do… this.” He stutters out, moves away from her arms and out the dance floor. The music is too loud, the lights are too bright and Zayn feels his head pound with the beat. 

She follows him then, cautiously, with a pity Zayn doesn’t want dancing in her eyes. “It’s alright. It’s fine.” She says gently and places her hand on his arm. A nice sort of comfort and Zayn lets himself melt into it for a second if only so that he can breathe a little better, think a little clearer. 

“I have to go, I’m sorry Perrie.” He murmurs out and squeezes past hoards of sweaty bodies into the fresh air. She lets him go. Maybe because she was never really interested, maybe because she understands something no one else seems to. Either way, Zayn thinks he would have been able to love her, one day, if Niall hadn’t already consumed his heart.

 

 

Zayn wakes to a booming thunder banging at his door. Weary, bloodshot eyes open as he drags himself to the door. He grabs the handle with shaking fists and wretches it open, ready to give whoever it is on the other side a peace of his mind and – 

Oh, he thinks, when his eyes adjust to the light outside. 

It’s Harry standing in the doorway, all gangly limbs and pigeon toed. “Hey man.” He mutters with his small, shy smile. He looks so awkward, standing there as if he doesn’t belong and oh, how long has it been since Zayn’s let company inside?

“Harry.” Zayn coughs through a raspy throat, ushers him in with a wave of his hand. “What – what are you doing here?” 

Harry looks sheepish, a mess of curls in the middle of his living room, and it feels strange that Zayn actually has to tell him to sit down. He thinks he remembers a time when Harry wouldn’t even knock, just barge in with his spare key and curl into Zayn’s bed. “Just wanted to check up on you.” He says. “Louis told me you left the party early yesterday.”

“Oh, um, yeah. I wasn’t feeling well.” Zayn says and it’s sort of the truth. He hasn’t felt well in a very long time. 

“Oh.” Harry mumbles. He wants to say more, Zayn can tell by the way he fiddles with his hands and stares resolutely at the ground. He wants to say more but he doesn’t. Instead, silence looms around a little longer as Zayn watches Harry try to pick up words that used to come easy. 

“I –” Harry finally begins, but his eyes are still firmly attached to the floor. “I know what you’re going through. I mean, not exactly of course. You had – you had something else with Niall and I didn’t but I – I think I do. Know what you’re going through, I mean. I think we feel the same things right now.” His voice is quiet and he stutters through his words as if getting them out is like climbing a mountain – but Zayn thinks he understands. He’s not alone. 

“I’m not here to tell you to get over it – him, or anything. These things take time, I know, and maybe that time is long but that’s okay. I just… I just wanted to, you know, well…” Harry trails off, scratching the back of his neck and Zayn takes this as his cue to step in. 

“Thanks, Harry.” Zayn says with a smile, cups his hand in his own, and sees Harry grin at him in return. There is a second where Zayn sees the old them, unhindered by pressure and unwearied by time. It is a fleeting moment, easily broken when Harry moves away, pulls something pink and achingly familiar out of his bag.

Shit, Zayn thinks and hopes the dread does not show through. “Here, you left this. In the hotel room.” Harry says with a beatific smile, as if he’s doing him a favour and god, doesn’t he know Zayn does things for a reason?

“Oh. Oh yeah. Um, thanks mate.” Zayn stammers, awkward, and reaches out for a conch shell laid reverently out on Harry’s palm. The ridges prick at his skin and Zayn has an overwhelming urge to break them off and sand it down until it is nothing more than a meaningless, ordinary shell. 

It’s when Harry coughs to get his attention that Zayn realises he hasn’t taken his eyes off it for a long while. “I’m sorry, I didn’t give it back right away. You just left it there, so I thought you didn’t want it and I… I kinda needed something of his I could hold. To remember, you know?” No, Zayn thinks. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why Harry would want anything that relates to _him_ , would want to remember someone who so easily tore out the ground from underneath them without a single word. 

Zayn thinks Harry can read his mind then, when he stares into Zayn’s eyes with a burning fire and determination. “Don’t – don’t throw it away, okay? I know you want to but just don’t.” He says and sticks his pinkie finger out in a promise.

Zayn eyes him wearily, gives him a look of _‘don’t make me do this’_. But Harry is nothing but persistent and doesn’t move until Zayn begrudgingly links their fingers together. “Okay, I won’t.” He says with a tight smile and decides to bury it beneath layers of old laundry instead.

 

 

It takes three days for Zayn to pick up the pink, conch shell, to feel its edges beneath his fingers. It takes even longer for him to put against his ear and hear home. The sound is hollow, familiar – so achingly familiar – and Zayn has a strong urge to smash it on the ground and watch its broken pieces scatter against the wood of his floors. But Harry’s words are imprinted in his mind, an endless string of ‘don’t throw it away’ chanting around him. Don’t throw the shell away, Zayn thought then. _Don’t throw him away_ , Zayn realises now. So instead, Zayn keeps listening to the echoes of the ocean, to the sound of hushed declarations. It is a familiar sound. It makes Zayn a bit sick, but this time, he lets himself remember.

 

 

It’s a spontaneous decision. Zayn wakes up one day with the sunlight streaming through the windows and for once, doesn’t feel like rolling on the floor and dying. His head is still a pounding mess, his eyes are still red from a night of regret and frustration and distant beginnings that hit you like a ton of bricks – but he is better. He’s better, happy even, and he doesn’t want to spend this moment of flighting freedom inside where walls try to consume and confine you in their grasp. 

It’s decided, Zayn thinks, as he picks up the phone and dials a number he knows by heart and waits for that hello. “Hey Liam. You busy?” Zayn asks as the sound of a guitar comes flitting through. 

“Nah, just writing a song with Louis. What’s up?” Liam responds and Zayn wonders how long it’s been since they’ve talked because Liam’s voice rings like a distant echo.

Zayn swallows and thinks twice, wonders if he should really ask. “How about you guys call up Harry and we go to the beach tonight?” He says before he can help himself and relief washes over him like a tidal wave.

“The beach? You wanna - ?” Liam says after a moment’s quiet as his words begin to sink in. “Shit, yeah okay, let’s go! I’ll pick you all up, okay?” He sounds so surprised and Zayn can hear him fumbling around for his keys, knocking whatever is unfortunate enough to be in his way.

Zayn laughs, starts to tell Liam to calm down before another voice rings in his ears. “Oi, what the hell do you think you’re doing? We’re not done here, you – “ Louis cajoles but Liam stops him before he can continue.

“Zayn wants to go to the beach!” 

“Zayn? Zayn ‘cheekbones’ Malik? Zayn wants to go – fuck this, let’s go now.” Louis says and Zayn has never felt less alone.

 

 

It’s bitingly cold. Perhaps because they’re near the sea, perhaps because it’s the middle of autumn. They lie down near the shore, all of them, and stare up at a sky littered with bursts of light. Sand digs into his skin and the wind scratches at his face but Zayn ignores it, focuses on the call of the ocean and the smell of salty waters. It reminds him of blinding hair and blinding smiles and Zayn grasps a handful of sand, watches as it seeps slowly through the cracks like an hour glass. 

“Thanks, guys.” He whispers finally, as they look at him with nothing but fondness in their eyes. 

“No problem.” Louis says and then: “I like to be paid back in expensive cars and villas, just so you know.” And Zayn laughs, feels truly, truly happy for the first time in a long time.

 

 

“What’s going on?” Harry asks a couple days later when he comes to visit. Boxes lie strewn across the floor haphazardly and Zayn stands there sheepishly, one hand behind his head and the other curled around a pile of clothes.

“Ah, um, I’m moving?” 

Harry seems to freeze at that, a rising pool of resentment and whatever infinitesimal form of anger Harry can manage bubbling beneath his surface. “You’re moving? Where?” His voice is loud, his eyes wide and mouth wider. 

Zayn tries to clear his throat, licks his lips and continues piling boxes on top of one another. “There’s a nice place I found.” He says shyly because he should have told them earlier, he should have said something. “It’s ah, near the beach.” 

“Oh.” Harry says and his mind seems to have stopped, like a chiselled marble statue in the centre of Zayn’s apartment. _“Oh.”_ He breathes out again and Zayn sees understanding and relief wash over him in buckets. “Well, let’s get you packed and outta here!” Harry says, picks up a box and smiles so gleefully, so brightly, it reminds Zayn of someone else far away.

 

 

Being closer to the beach can give you all sorts of strange dreams, Zayn realises. 

The first night, he dreams he is in the ocean. He knows he is dreaming, can hear the waves just outside his home moulding and merging into his chaotic mind. He knows but he doesn’t want to wake up because he is in the ocean and he can breathe and Niall is there with him, bare in his human form. Niall swims away and Zayn chases, dashes through the current and for once in his life, he isn’t afraid of the vast shadows consuming him everywhere at once. Niall runs up onto the shore and Zayn follows, the sun so hot it burns him as the sand bites at his heels. He crumbles into a heap on that dock, that very same dock, and Zayn falls with him, arms supporting him so he can stare into that beautiful, familiar face. 

He peppers Niall’s face with light, butterfly kisses and runs his fingers up and down his sides. Zayn thinks he can feel the warmth underneath his fingertips and water from the ocean, less pronounced and more submerged. It makes his heart ache, the way he remembers every ridge and curve of Niall’s body. An awful, horrible sob reaches his ears and only when Niall reaches up to wipe his cheek does he realise he’s crying. And he doesn’t know why, not in that moment, but he can’t stop and it comes like a stream, like pelting rain, and Zayn feels like he’s drowning as his vision blurs. He chokes and sobs, hiccups when Niall smiles lovingly up at him, still stroking his cheek with one hand but he can’t stop at all and all of a sudden the dock is soaking wet, water comes lapping at his feet and he feels like Alice in that room surrounded in an ocean of her tears. 

Niall laughs then but it sounds so distant despite him being so close, like a far-off echo that comes from a memory. Zayn feels offended because here he is crying his heart out like a madman and all Niall can do is laugh at him and give him that same goofy look. Zayn tries to speak and tell him off but his throat tightens every time he tries and before long, Niall is dragging him down for a kiss, all tongue and wet heat. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Niall whispers when they part, his voice a haunting echo and his breath hot against Zayn’s ear. “I’m here.” Zayn wants to laugh at him, at the ridiculousness of his words, because Niall has never been here at all.

“Shut up, you goddamn liar. Just shut up.” Zayn finally manages to spit out, along with a string of other insults that burst out like a broken dam. Niall takes it like a soldier, his smile never faltering, all warmth and soft kisses as Zayn tries everything to make him hurt as much as he has hurt Zayn. “I hate you so much. Do you know that? Do you know that I hate you?”

Niall hums sweetly, contemplatively, and then stares at him with all the affection in the world. “Yeah. But you love me just as much, don’t you?” He says in that self-confident assured way of his that makes Zayn hold him even closer, skin on skin, and bury his head into coarse hair. 

“No. No, no, no.” He utters like a mantra. “More. I love you so much more.” He says and thank god this is a dream or he’d be utterly mortified, all open and vulnerable like he is now. But he just can’t help it, the things he says and does. They come out like an instinct and Zayn can’t contain them, lets them flow out freely the way he cannot when he is awake. 

“Oh, you sap.” Niall laughs against his chest. “That’s so cheesy, that’s so embarrassing. You should hear yourself.” He says but the light pink dusting his cheeks and the smile plastered on his face tell Zayn something different.

“Do – do you –” Zayn begins but Niall must see his dread and fear because he stops him before he can finish to pull them both back into the water with sure, easy steps. He is so at home here and Zayn wonders whether he as any right to take Niall away from all this again. 

“Of course I do, you right idiot.” Niall says as they gradually drift below the surface. The sun becomes a translucent blur beneath the water and Zayn watches as the world slowly slips further away, closing his eyes when Niall comes to whisper forever in his ear.

 

 

Fingers against the date of a calendar marked in red and Liam hums contemplatively. “Soon, huh?” He asks when he comes over one day. 

“Soon.” Zayn says with a smile, writes down the last notes to a song he’s held from so long ago.

 

 

They’re all at some after party for the release of an album one night. Zayn can’t remember who’s album, only that he and Louis wrote most of the songs. He’s downing his fourth drink that night with Liam and Sophia by his side, keeping silent like the professional third wheel he is when he hears his name over the pounding music.

“Zayn!” A voice calls again and he turns to see a shock of blonde hair as Perrie inches towards him, a hunk of man attached at her hip. Her eyes glow beneath the fog and smoke and the years have done her well. She’s beautiful, more so than the last time he saw her, and her laugh is still infectious. 

“Hey Perrie.” He smiles as she introduces him to her fiancé. He doesn’t take in much – the music is too loud to have a decent conversation – but he sees that they’re happy. It makes Zayn try to picture himself there with her instead as they talk about the new place they’ve gotten together and the wedding that’s coming up. It’s a nice image, the perfect family picture he’d always imagine when he was young, but when Zayn doesn’t feel regret creep up behind him, he knows he’s made the right decision.

 

 

Of course, life doesn’t stop for Zayn. It did once, but he won’t let it happen again. Life is more than a boy with a thundering laugh, the world in the palm of his hands and glee etched beneath his pale fingers. Zayn finds happiness in other places, in three close friends and a sea of family, in the sound of his own songs – his own, his lyrics, his melody – blasting through speakers all over the world. He’s moving forward, and it feels like the world is moving with him. Moving on, however, is a different story as he waits for a boy who may never come.

 

 

Seven years edges itself closer and Zayn begins to feel nervous. So they all decide to come over one day – Liam, Louis and Harry – because apparently, Zayn is supposed to feel like his dying all over again, like he needs three boys to come and pull him out of a rut he’d only left a couple years ago. He’s nervous and scared and worried because oh, what happens if he doesn’t come back? But he’s not dying. A little bent, but not broken. Nothing time can’t heal and plaster. 

They all look so cautious, piling together on his couch, especially Harry who hands Zayn a crumpled flyer with darting eyes and shaky hands. “Uh, here.” He mutters and Zayn sees a picture of sharks and fish and the aquarium painted on the front. “We were wondering if you’d like to go. I thought maybe, uh, well you see…” Harry stops, licks his lips before realising his words have failed him. “Louis, you idiot I told you this wouldn’t work!” He cries out instead, shoving the older beside him with a harsh nudge. 

“It’s not my fault you’re an articulate ball of hair!” Louis remarks back, sticking out his tongue for emphasis like a petulant child, hands crossed against his chest whilst Liam tries to blend into the couch.

“Me a ball of hair? You’re a ball of hair, you’re hair on a stick. You know that beard only makes you look, like, a thousand years older.” And suddenly, all three burst into a flurry of voices and names and the only thing Zayn thinks he hears is Liam’s _‘would you two just stop for one second?’_ as Louis and Harry pinch and pull at each other like cats. 

“Hey.” Zayn says cautiously, hands spread out in some sort of peace offering. They ignore him, of course, lost in a tornado of insults. _“Hey.”_ He says again, only slightly louder but it cuts like a knife as quiet immediately reigns in. “Thanks guys. But in case you’ve forgotten, I live near the beach so this isn’t exactly new and exciting for me.”

There is a painful, awful silence as they stare at him, as if they have a secret he doesn’t know. Finally, Louis speaks. “They have a new department. Seals.” He says bluntly and Zayn watches anticipation wash over their faces.

There is some sort of anger Zayn feels bubbling at his chest, some budding form of annoyance. What’s this supposed to do? Make him more nervous, make those feelings of regret and hurt from all those years come rushing back? But he sees the good intention in their hopeful faces and he breathes in. Once, twice and pushes down the hurt and frustration.

“Oh. Alright.” He says. “Let’s go then.” And they all break into smiles and uncoiled energy and before Zayn can collect himself, Liam is shoving him in the back seat of his car as Louis and Harry bicker over the front seat. 

“Wait, now?” Zayn asks a little flustered as Liam turns on the engine. Harry flumps himself disappointedly besides Zayn as Louis childishly sticks his tongue out at him and Liam is left looking shy and awkward as they set off. 

“Yeah, we booked a, uh, a private session? Besides, better now than later.” He murmurs and Zayn can’t help but laugh because it feels like they’re teenagers again, doing the first thing that comes into their minds and turning down the windows to feel the wind in their hair. It’s hard, Zayn thinks, to imagine anything more right than now.

 

 

Before long, time comes rushing past and Zayn is left staring at a red circle on his calendar. Nothing happens yet but Zayn’s learned to let people come to him. 

“Maybe he’s just nervous?” Liam suggests when they’re preparing for an award ceremony. Louis is up for best single and Zayn couldn't be more proud of how far they’ve come as composers and artists. 

“Maybe.” Zayn responds, calm and a little self-assured. His confidence makes Liam turn to him abruptly and study him with a narrowed look. He must find what he’s looking for because in the next instance, Liam’s wrapping an arm around his shoulder with a small smile. _Yeah_ , Zayn thinks. Everything is going to be alright.

 

 

It is seven years and how many weeks later, and Zayn hangs in that suspension of time where the days begin to blur and time begins to slow. Perhaps that is why he doesn’t believe it at first when he opens his door one morning to find a familiar figure crouched outside his door.

Niall leaps up like a reflex when Zayn’s door swings open, eyes fixed on the wood grain below his feet. His hair clings to his forehead and water drips from his skin. He’s about to say something – planned words for a planned meeting – but Zayn doesn’t give him the chance, pulls him by the hand into his open arms.

Niall’s body is pliant and cold from the sea, moulds against his own and Zayn remembers it so, so well. He holds him tight, presses his fingers into pale skin because god, he’s real and he’s here and he’s back. Niall pulls away from Zayn far too soon for his liking and Zayn can see the way his lip quivers, aches with the weight of seven years of unspoken words.

“I’m sorry. I’m so – I’m so sorry. I didn’t – I tried so hard but I couldn’t… I couldn’t…” Niall chokes as he looks up at Zayn, tears streaming down pink cheeks. Zayn only shakes his head, grins a bit brighter as he leans in press a kiss against his forehead. 

“What a day to be at the beach.” Zayn says and Niall laughs brilliantly, buries his head against Zayn’s neck and cries. His fingers are white with grip, his cheeks flushed from the cold and Zayn presses a smile against his hair, breathes in the smell of salt and sunshine and home.

Oh, what a day to be at the beach.


End file.
